


No Way To Justify

by plutonianshores



Series: I Know I Done Wrong [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Rape Recovery, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 09:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/pseuds/plutonianshores
Summary: Faraday may be free from Bogue, but he still has a hell of a lot of things to overcome, his own self-loathing chief among them.





	No Way To Justify

**Author's Note:**

> Contains period-typical homophobia (both internal and external)

Faraday woke up screaming and clawing at the quilt underneath him. A threadbare and patched-over quilt— _not Bogue’s_. He rolled onto his back and took a deep breath, cataloguing the room around him. His trousers were tight around his waist, and he ached in places he didn’t want to think about. Another deep breath, and he was hit with the smell of himself, which sent Faraday retching for the chamber pot.

He heard a commotion in the room on the other side of the wall, and soon after a knock on his door.

“You all right?” a voice—Vasquez—called through the door.

“Fuck off,” Faraday growled between gags. Damn it all, couldn’t a man be sick in peace?

Footsteps walked away, but soon after another knock at the door came.

“Let me in.” Chisolm this time. “I have breakfast, and clothes.”

Faraday didn’t care much for the idea of breakfast, but the clothes were enticing. He stood up, then fell flat on his ass as his legs gave way beneath him.

The door flew open, Chisolm running in with hands full of a bundle of clothes and a pitcher of water.

Faraday glared at him from where he sat on the floor. “If you had the keys, what’d you get me out of bed for? Ain’t got any modesty left to preserve.”

Chisolm set his handful down. “I thought you could use the privacy. Do you need a hand?”

Faraday’s face flushed red. This was somehow more humiliating than the man seeming him fuck himself on Bogue’s cock, though he couldn’t say why. “I’d appreciate that.”

He only flinched a little when Chisolm touched him.

“Back to bed?”

Faraday nodded and let Chisolm help him up to sit on the bed. _Fuck_ , sitting up was no good. He flopped backwards, returning Chisolm’s concerned look with a glare.

“You too sick to eat?” Chisolm asked, composed as anything.

“I think so.” Faraday had hoped that Chisolm would leave him the fuck alone after that, but he stayed standing at the foot of the bed. “Need anything else, or are you just here to torment a sick man?”

“I’m assuming you want to change clothes,” Chisolm replied. “And a bath might not go amiss, if you feel up to it.”

God, that sounded good. The only problem was—“Don’t think I can stand.”

Chisolm nodded. “I can help. If you’re willing.”

Faraday groaned, face going even redder. “I don’t have much choice.”

  


Chisolm filled the tub first, and at least Faraday could be grateful that he went to the trouble of hauling the hot water to the room himself instead of allowing a maid in. Bad enough that one person was seeing him like this.

Then he waited, arching an eyebrow at Faraday.

“I…need help with my clothes,” Faraday mumbled.

Chisolm nodded. “Trousers first?”

They were hard to pull off, tighter than Faraday had realized. Once exposed to air, Faraday could feel the dried come and slick that remained from Bogue’s last few fucks, and his skin crawled. Chisolm averted his gaze and moved to help him with his shirt.

It was a long and shaky walk to the bathtub, and Chisolm practically had to lift Faraday into it. He let out a scream when the water hit his ass, though he clamped down on it soon enough that likely only Chisolm heard.

Would’ve been better if he’d kept it in entirely. He didn’t like the look Chisolm was giving him—too full of pity he didn’t deserve.

“It wasn’t this bad, usually,” he said through gritted teeth, trying his best to relax into the water. “If I behaved, he went easy on me.”

Faraday had just wanted to chase away the pity. He could take disgust—Lord knew he felt disgusted enough with himself that anyone else’s would be just a drop in the bucket—but the pity stuck in his craw.

He hadn’t counted on the anger. Chisolm’s eyes went hard, and his grip on the tub’s rim grew white-knuckle tight.

“I’m thinking,” Chisolm said, eyes fixed at a point over Faraday’s head, “of all the ways I would kill Bartholomew Bogue if he weren’t already dead.”

“It ain’t worth all that fuss, Chisolm.” Faraday shut his eyes and leaned back against the bathtub. “ _I_ ain’t worth it.”

“Twelve years ago, Bartholomew Bogue and his men rode into my town. He wanted the land, you see. Told me if I got on my knees for him, he’d spare my sisters from the same fate, so I did. After he’d finished with me, he set his men on my family, and then strung me up.” Chisolm tugged down the collar of his jacket, revealing a jagged scar running across his neck. “I was lucky to survive, although I didn’t feel it at the time. If you need—”

“Wasn’t like that with me,” Faraday said. “I wanted what he gave me.”

“No one wants that.” And there was the pity again.

“Did you get it up when he took you?” Faraday glared at Chisolm. “I did.”

That chased away the pity well enough, but he couldn’t tell what Chisolm was feeling in its place, and he wasn’t in the mood for a blank-faced staring contest. “Lay off the platitudes and leave me alone.”

“Shout if you need me.” Chisolm did as Faraday asked, the implacable expression still on his face.

Faraday scrubbed until his skin was raw, then scrubbed some more until the water was cold. Then he tried and failed to stand up, and resigned himself to a life spent in a bathtub.

Someone knocked on the door. “Go away!” Faraday shouted—he’d rather drown himself than face Chisolm again.

“Can’t do that, guero.” Faraday’s thoughts went from _thank God, Vasquez_ to _oh fuck, Vasquez_ before the man had finished speaking.

“Jesus Christ, ain’t it enough that Chisolm’s seen me buck naked today?”

“You tell me that you can get out of that bath by yourself, and I will leave you alone.”

Faraday groaned. “Come in then, you bastard.”

Vasquez entered with his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger! Chisolm said you might need help, and that you wouldn’t want it from him.”

Faraday narrowed his eyes. “What else did he say?”

He could tell from the confusion on Vasquez’s face that Chisolm had kept his promise. “That you were ill.”

“Fucking bastard drugged me,” Faraday grumbled. “God, I’m missing the laudanum. And full meals, come to it.”

Vasquez tutted sympathetically and locked a hand around Faraday’s arm. He let go when Faraday flinched. “You hurt?”

“Not too bad.” Thank God he’d jumped to that conclusion, because Faraday didn’t relish explaining that anyone touching him made him want to scream. “My other arm’s fine.”

He managed to hide his reaction when Vasquez helped him out of the bath. Well, he hid most of it, and he hoped the rest would pass as a shiver from the cold.

Maybe it was because he was too tired to feel _anything_ , but getting dressed was less humiliating than getting undressed had been. Having someone else’s hands on him still rankled, but it didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin anymore.

“If you need me—”

“Shout, yeah, I know. Chisolm said the same.”

“There’s no shame in needing time to recover,” Vasquez said.

“Don’t mean I’m going to enjoy it,” Faraday muttered, very close to telling Vasquez exactly what he had to be ashamed of. “Now leave me alone so I can sleep.”

  


It only took a few days for Faraday to get sick of being cooped up in bed. Unfortunately, his compatriots were of the opinion that he needed “bedrest” and “time to recuperate”. Maybe if he tried to walk out, Chisolm would let him go, but Faraday didn’t want to put it to the test. But he wanted a drink, and he wanted a fuck that would wipe Bogue out of his memory.

The drink might have been a bad idea. Just one glass of whiskey set his head spinning and his judgment straight to hell. He wasn’t even sure, looking back, what he’d wanted to get out of his proposition. Getting laid was risky in small towns like these if you wanted that lay to be a man, and Faraday still half-hated the idea of a man touching him. But it was that or spend another night in bed feeling his ribs ache and feeling sorry for himself, so out he went. One thing led to another, and soon he was sidled up to a man who, it seemed, didn’t want his company.

At least, that’s what the punch to the face led Faraday to believe.

“What’re you trying for?” the man shouted, swinging at Faraday again. This time, Faraday punched back, ignoring the pain radiating from his face down to his side. It didn’t land as solid as he would’ve liked, but the man still fell back before coming at Faraday again.

Just as he went in for another hit, someone grabbed his arm. Faraday went to punch them too before they murmured, “Guero, what happened?”

Oh, God, they’d come to save him. Faraday would rather have let the man beat him into the ground. That chance was lost, though—Red Harvest was glaring at the man threateningly, and he seemed to have thought better of beating the shit out of Faraday.

“Can’t let a man get his ass whooped in peace, can you?” Faraday grumbled, tearing his arm out of Vasquez’s grip and staggering for the door.

“Not when you are recovering.” Vasquez followed him out, with Red Harvest close on both their trails.

“What did you do?” Red Harvest asked, unreadable.

“Got in a fight with another drunk idiot.” Faraday stumbled, and Vasquez caught his arm. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll stay in my bed like a good boy from now on.”

His answer didn’t pacify either of them, and between the suspicious glares and Vasquez’s hand on his arm, Faraday was too on-edge to commit to a lie. It was all he could manage to keep his mouth shut.

“You started it?” Vasquez asked, and with that, Faraday lost any inhibitions he might’ve had about shutting up and letting him and Red Harvest draw their own conclusions.

“Might as well have. I thought I’d go out and find a man to fuck me, seeing as the last time I got any was when Bogue had me locked up as his personal whore. You’d think that would’ve put me off sex forever, but here I am.” He braced himself for disgust, and wasn’t at all prepared for the concern on both of their faces. “It’s like a bad joke, isn’t it? A queer walks into a bar, a Mexican and an Indian drag him out.”

Vasquez flinched, and while his grip on Faraday’s arm remained delicate, his other hand clenched into a fist. “That bastard rapes you, and as soon as you can stand, you go out to punish yourself?”

“You’ve got it the wrong way ‘round, amigo.” Faraday should have kept his mouth shut for once in his goddamned life, but he just kept on talking like the fool he was. “What Bogue did, that was the punishment for _this_.”

“It was a cruel man, forcing himself on you.” Red Harvest sounded angrier than Faraday had ever heard him. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“You’re not seeing the cosmic justice of it all.” He would have waved his arms for emphasis if he wasn’t clinging to the two of them to keep from falling over. “I spend half my life looking to get fucked, and it’s delivered to me on a silver platter.”

“You didn’t deserve it.” Vasquez squeezed his arm for emphasis.

“You wouldn’t say that if you could see the thoughts I’ve had about you.” Faraday cut off whatever Vasquez was about to say with a hiss. “I am _too drunk_ for this argument. If you don’t stop talking, I’ll walk myself back to the inn.”

They stayed quiet for the rest of the walk back, but the silence left Faraday too much space with his own thoughts. He was only too happy to collapse onto his bed once they reached the inn, leaving the self-loathing for morning.

  


They left town the next day, and although no one came out and said it, Faraday knew why. He’d gotten used to ducking out fast, but dragging Chisolm, Vasquez, and Red Harvest out with him made Faraday feel a new kind of lousy. It was worse than the ride away from the ruins of Bogue’s house, even with him on his own horse instead of slumped over Chisolm’s. Worst of all was the feeling that all three of his companions were staring at him, waiting for him to break.

“Where are we going?” Faraday asked, daring them to lecture him for getting them run out of town.

Instead, Chisolm looked over at him calm as could be. “Back to Rose Creek, eventually. There’s a bounty out on a man’s been seen near Canfield, figured we could smoke him out on the way there. We can talk strategy once we get to town, but he shouldn’t be a difficult catch.”

They were just going to pretend Faraday hadn’t done anything, then. He’d prefer Chisolm yell at him, or leave him behind. At least that way he wouldn’t be waiting for the moment they all got sick of putting up with his bullshit.

Then there were hours of silence, Faraday sneaking glances at the others every so often and waiting for the other boot to drop (but not so eager for trouble that he wanted to pick a fight).

Vasquez caught one of his glances around noon, and pointedly held it. "Are we going to talk about what happened yesterday?"

Damn, there was the pity again. Faraday regretted thinking that anything would be better than the silence. "No, we are _not_."

"I will not work with a man who tries to get himself killed every chance he gets."

Faraday scoffed. "And the going out hunting for cock isn't a problem?"

"No, it isn't." Vasquez tilted his chin, daring Faraday to fight him on that. "Joshua, I’ve fucked men. I plan to continue doing it. If Bogue had taken me, instead of you, would you tell me I deserved it?"

"Never," Faraday growled. The thought of Vasquez, of any of his companions, being trapped by Bogue made his stomach sick.

"Then don't tell me you do."

Chisolm and Red Harvest kindly pretended they hadn't heard any of the conversation, and the group faded back into silence.

Thankfully, it was barely a day's ride to Canfield. When they reached the outskirts of town, Chisolm read off the description of their mark, and started laying out the plan. It felt easy, like Faraday had been part of this group his whole life, hunting down outlaws and arguing with stubborn assholes who wouldn't leave well enough alone.

"There's a cave outside of town, and our man Carver's been seen coming and going from it. Vasquez and I will storm the cave. Red Harvest, you scout up ahead, look for his horse and any allies. Faraday, you keep watch."

Keep watch. More like, _Faraday, you're too banged up to be any use, so stay here and watch the horses_. "Sure thing, boss," he said, not even trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Chisolm sighed, but didn't deign to argue. "We'll move at sunset."

  


And so as the sun fell behind the mountains, Faraday leaned against a tree with his hand on Jack's flank, watching his so-called partners run in guns blazing without him. Well, he already knew he was useless. This was just confirmation that Chisolm knew too.

He kept his eyes on the cave, halfheartedly watching for anyone coming in, or coming out. Not that he expected to see anything. One man hiding out, no friends and no match for Chisolm and Vasquez. He leaned back, listening to the wind through the trees, a few soft whinnies from the horses—

Someone shouted. It sounded a hell of a lot like Vasquez.

Faraday ran for the cave.

  


The few steps to the entrance calmed him down enough that he went in quietly, gun drawn and steps soft as he could make them. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw their man with a pistol to Vasquez's head, Chisolm in the corner with his hands up and his own gun on the ground.

"You don't want to do this, son," Chisolm said, voice calm as ever. "One more death to your name won't make things easier on you."

"Shut up!" He was scared, Faraday could practically smell it on him. And scared made him dangerous.

Faraday leveled his gun and shot him straight between the eyes.

The man fell, and then so did Vasquez, dropping to his knees. "That you, guero?"

"You know it." Faraday smiled at him, then looked over at Chisolm. "And don't tell me you wanted him alive."

"Wasn't planning on it," Chisolm said. "Help me get him back to town?"

  


They did just that, after Red Harvest came back with the man's horse. They slung him over the saddle and hauled him back to the sheriff's office. A few days and an exchange of money later, and they were off again, a much more leisurely departure than their last.

"We got a plan?" Faraday asked on their way out of town. The question stung at his mouth—he'd barely dared think of a future.

From the softness in Chisolm's answer, he'd heard Faraday's nerves. "Rose Creek, for a bit. We could all use a rest. After that, if you're amenable, I thought we could continue on like this. There are plenty of bad men out there who need catching."

Faraday pretended to consider it. "I could be persuaded."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Brandi Carlile's "Alibi"


End file.
